


Mostly

by Stratagem



Series: Resistance AU [5]
Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, John actually gets hurt, Whoa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratagem/pseuds/Stratagem
Summary: While John, Marcos, and Clarice are out running an errand for the Underground, John is injured, reminding everyone that he's almost indestructible, almost invincible, but not quite. Which, of course, does not sit well with anyone. Basically a team-taking-care-of-John fic. Set in the Resistance AU.





	Mostly

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill: 6- “You have to go. You have to run, and you can’t look back. Promise me.”  
> 11- “It’s okay, you’re okay. Just stay with me.”  
> 14- “You could’ve died! Do you realize that?”
> 
> Set in the Resistance AU. Clarice and John have been dating for a while, and it’s actually multi-chaptered! So, ahhhh, #11 and #14 are in another chapter. This is somewhat born from Marcos mentioning that John is “almost” bulletproof. I was trying to figure out how someone could be ALMOST bulletproof…

It was supposed to be a quick mission. Go to Louisiana, get the new truck that Lucas had promised them, drive back to HQ. Marcos and Clarice had volunteered to go, and John had decided to go along with them since Lucas could be, well, unpredictable. While he was one of the links in their ever-growing underground railroad, Lucas was the kind of guy that met you at the door with a shotgun and had a shoot first, ask questions later policy. Being somewhat bulletproof helped with that sort of thing, though John wasn’t sure how well he would hold up against a point-blank shotgun wound to the chest. In any case, the drive there was supposed to be the easy part.

They hadn’t expected to run into a Sentinel Services roadblock and license check.

Not good. Three wanted mutants in one Jeep, and if they tried to back away now, Sentinel Services would be on them in a second. It was better to try to talk their way through and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary rather than run away and draw attention to themselves.

Why hadn’t someone contacted them to tell them there was a roadblock? Back at HQ, Harry and Elaine were monitoring radio chatter and the rest of the surveillance equipment. Sentinel Services must have been using code terms to keep it a secret so no one would avoid the road. Most likely they were searching for fugitives and wouldn’t investigate them too closely. John glanced at the rearview mirror, meeting Clarice’s eyes.

“What, you’re not going to say act natural?” she said, forcing humor, “Or, I don’t know, let me do the talking?”

“Act natural,” Marcos said, “Happy?”

“Much better.” She put on her sunglasses and leaned against the far door, trying to be inconspicuous. She had temporary brown dye in her hair, and her hair was carefully arranged to hide her pointed ears. No one would notice her. It was going to be fine.

They inched their way up to the roadblock, tension mounting in the cab of their Jeep. “Look, if something goes wrong—” John started, but Marcos interrupted.

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” he said, “It’s going to be fine.”

“But if it isn’t, I want you two to run,” John said, “Got it?”

“And what are you planning to do, stay behind and buy us some time?” Clarice asked bitterly. Her hand came over the seat and rested on her shoulder, gentler than her tone. “We’re here as a team, so let’s act like it.”

“There’re too many here,” John said, his eyes flicking to the roadblock. “If we all fight them, we all go down. I can hold them off and then meet up with you later.”

“Oh, now that sounds like a truly terrible plan,” Marcos said, “We appreciate your noble sacrifice, we really do, but we’re all getting out of here together, John.”

“I’m with Marcos. We won’t leave you behind, so stop talking about it,” Clarice said, her green eyes angry as she glared at him in the rearview mirror.

John grumbled, dropping his weight against the door. “I’ll be fine.”

Clarice reached up and punched him in the shoulder. “Stop. I mean it.”

He held up his hand, indicating he was dropping the subject. He let a breath escape through his clenched teeth as he tried to find a new way out of the situation. He should have heard the trucks and cars lingering here, idle, but he hadn’t been focusing. Instead, he had been busy driving and arguing with Marcos about the radio station, which in hindsight was pretty damn juvenile. He ran a hand over his face, mad at himself. He could’ve avoided this if he had been paying better attention, and now they were all in danger.

They pulled into the traffic stop, and John rolled down his window as a Sentinel Services agent stepped forward. The woman glanced at all of them and then focused in on John. “License and registration.”

John grabbed his fake license from where he had it ready in the cup holder, and Marcos pulled the registration from the glove compartment and handed it to John. He gave both to the agent and sat back in his seat, acting like he was bored instead of worried.

“Where are you all heading?” the agent asked, looking from John’s license to his face.

“Heading over to visit some friends in Fort Gaines,” John said, naming a town that was on the way.

“Mmm.” The agent nodded and then moved away from the Jeep. “I’ll be right back. Stay there.”

John’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she walked back over to the Sentinel Services SUV. The steering wheel gave under his grip, small cracks appearing in the surface.

“John,” Clarice said softly, and he eased up, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that this wasn’t going to go well.

“Don’t break the Jeep,” Marcos mumbled under his breath.

The agent came back, the same pinched and sharp look on her face. “Can you pull over to the side of the road, sir?” she asked, and the hair on the back of John’s neck stood up. Shit.

“Sure, but can I ask why?” he said, resting his hand on the Jeep’s gearshift. He eyes flicked ahead, and he tried to judge the situation. There wasn’t a spike strip over the road…they could make it. But they wouldn’t be able to go far, it was guaranteed that Sentinel Services would be on them immediately. Could they outrace the better, faster SUVs?

“It’s just a random plate check,” the woman said, “We have to do them every few cars or my boss gets upset. So…do you mind?”

John nodded to her, rolled the window up, and put the car in gear. If she was telling the truth, they could probably get through this. If it was a trap…

“I don’t like this,” Marcos said as John pulled the Jeep of the road, “She’s lying.”

“Possibly,” John said, tense. He threw the Jeep into park and turned around to look at Clarice. “You okay?”

“Let me just repeat, we’re not leaving you.”

John frowned. “Clarice, did I even say anything about that?”  

“You were thinking it.”

“You don’t know that.”

 “Oh, _yes_ , I do because I know you, John Proudstar.”

“You were definitely thinking that,” Marcos said.

John caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he realized that more Sentinel Services agents were mobilizing over where the agent had asked them to pull over in. They were wearing riot gear, and yeah, John wasn’t playing that game. “Everyone, hold on.”

He flung the Jeep into reverse and slammed his foot into the gas pedal, sending it off peeling backward. This was the very thing he had been yelling at James about last week, reckless driving, but right now he didn’t have a choice. He pushed through the gears and the Jeep flew forward, crashing through a barrier and going off road through a field.

Marcos braced himself on the dashboard as the Jeep hit a bump and jumped into the air, dropping down roughly into the dirt. The tires spun for a second before catching and sending them forward again.

“Oh, shit!” Clarice yelled, grabbing onto the back of Marcos’ seat.

“I like this plan a little better,” Marcos said, “But we’re still being followed…”

“Right,” John said, “Remember that whole running idea? I need you to actually do that. You have to run, and you can’t look back. Promise me.”

“We already said—”

“I know!” John snapped, raising his voice, “I know, but the situation—”

“No,” Clarice said firmly, “We’re not—”

“Clarice, just—”

Marcos broke in. “You know what, I agree with Clarice—”

“See, Marcos is with me, and I don’t care—”

“All right!” John interrupted, the Jeep turning sharply to the right and in the direction of the woods. Behind them, Sentinel Services SUVs were already cutting across the field, racing toward them. “Fine, we’ll all go, okay? But you have to make a portal, Clarice.”

“Yes, definitely,” she said, then leaned into the space between his and Marcos’ seats, watching his face. “We’ll have to do a few jumps.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, bracing as the Jeep hit another dip in the field. It rocked, and Clarice had to sit back. Maybe it would work, all three of them leaving through a portal. But the strain on Clarice…she would have to make multiple portals, one after the other, to get them away quickly.

They reached the edge of the woods and John put the Jeep into park, though he didn’t turn it off. They all jumped out of the truck, John nearly ripping the back door off of its hinges as he pulled it open for Clarice. In the distance, something boomed and a bullet bite into the back of the Jeep. Marcos and Clarice ducked while John stepped behind them, creating a barrier. He was mostly bulletproof, after all, up to a certain range and caliber.

“Go, go!” he said, and they took off toward the woods, a portal already sparkling in Clarice’s hands. Another gunshot tore through the air, followed by a third, and this time, it felt like someone had driven a cinder block into his back. John glowered but ignored it as they hurried through the trees. Clarice skidded to a stop and then pulled the portal open wider, fighting against the universe to create an impossibility.

“C’mon, I can’t hold this forever,” she said, and Marcos dove through the portal.

More gunshots went off and a few peppered his arms and legs as he continued to provide a shield for his friend. It was close enough for the bullets to sting like hell and draw a little blood but not to burrow in. He was about to step through the portal when heat scorched his back and setting his shirt on fire. Letting out a yell of pain, he pulled off the shirt and flung it to the ground. Another fireball struck him, creating a blossom of burns on his arm and side. Sure, he was durable, but that didn’t mean he was fireproof. Fire resistant, sure. That wound would be far worse on a regular person but on him they were second degree burns.

There was a girl walking toward him, fire playing around her fingertips, amusement in her brown eyes. She was wearing a Sentinel Services uniform, but she was definitely a mutant and still a teenager. “You have the right to remain silent,” she said, raising her hand, flames flickering in her palm. “Or I’ll turn you into a bonfire.” Behind her, older agents were closing in, guns pointed at John, and beyond them he could hear spider drones being released.

“Clarice, time to go,” John said, stepping toward the portal.

“You first,” Clarice said, “And hurry!”

Sunbeams with the intensity of lasers suddenly poured out of the portal, and Marcos stepped back through, glaring at the girl. “John! Come on!”

“Get the portal girl,” the mutant with fire powers said, raising her hands to catch Marcos’ beams. “I’ll take care of these two.”

John grabbed Marcos and lunged through the portal, shielding him as a new round of bullets came their way. This time, one of the bullets must have been from a high-power gun since it dug into his shoulder blade, burrowing into the muscle. It lodged itself there, unable to pass straight through. A second later, Clarice dropped in after them, stumbling onto the hill a football field away from the agents.

John groaned and cursed, pain searing across his side as a breeze blew across his wounds. He wasn’t used to getting injured and he had sort of forgotten how much it sucked.

“Oh my God, John,” Clarice said, her fingers hovering over the burns on his side, her eyes wide. Marcos had a similar expression on his face but John shook his head.

“Clarice, we have to go, we have to get farther away,” he said, “I’m sorry…”

“What’re you sorry about?” she said, grabbing at the air again, “You self-sacrificing moron.”

Marcos took him by the arm and held tight even when John tried to shrug him off. Far away, the Sentinel Services agents had figured out where they were and had already started moving toward their location. Clarice pulled open another portal, and they hurried through, getting farther away. By the fourth portal, Clarice was exhausted, but they were far enough away from the Sentinel Services that they could take a break.

“I’m calling HQ,” Marcos said, his brown eyes worried as Clarice and John leaned against a tree, their fingers intertwined as both of them tried to catch their breath.

“Don’t tell James,” John said, “He’ll freak out.”

“He’s going to find out,” Clarice said. She looked up him, frowning, and then she zeroed in on his shoulder. “John…John, you’re bleeding.”

His head dropped forward in an attempt at a nod. “Yeah.”

“Turn around,” she said, grabbing his arm and trying to turn him herself. He obliged, knowing she wouldn’t stop and leave it be. “Damn, is that a bullet wound? Did you get shot?! You didn’t say anything!”

“What?” Marcos said, pulling the phone away from his ear, “What are you talking about?”

“John got shot,” Clarice said, “Is it still in there?”

“Mhmm,” John grunted. “It’s fine. It’ll be okay.”

“Man, you have to tell us things like that!” Marcos scolded, shock on his face, “I thought you were bulletproof.”

“Mostly,” John said, leaning into Clarice’s touch as she reached up and brushed the hair out of his face, her other hand applying pressure to his slowly bleeding wound. “Mostly bulletproof.”


End file.
